


December 15: but for now let me say

by dizzy



Series: farewell and gtfo 2016 daily fic advent [15]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: prompt: Fluffy New Years or Christmas where they have a quiet evening and reminisce about how crazy 2016 was, leading up to fluffy smut while it snows





	

Dan sleeps in late. 

Phil lets him. He likes how Dan looks asleep this deeply. Dan doesn’t get enough sleep, and not enough of that is good. Right now the lines of stress are eased from his forehead and his mouth is slack, a little bit of dampness on his pillow. 

He has the urge to reach down and touch Dan’s hair, put fingers on his face, just to feel how alive and breathing and real and here he is. But he doesn’t want to wake Dan, so instead he slips out of the bedroom and goes to make himself a coffee. 

*

“This is a nice day,” Dan says. He’s tucked up as small as he can get on the sofa in the lounge, while still taking up more room than any person really should. He’s all long limbs and long neck, a lazy unproductive lump of man that Phil feels painfully fond of. 

It’s the festive season. He’s allowed to be a sap.

“Dan.” Phil smiles, amused. “It’s dreary and raining now.” 

“It’s nice,” Dan insists. “In here, it’s nice. And I like how the rain sounds.” 

“Yeah.” Phil touches Dan’s hair the way he’d wanted to earlier, smiling again as Dan leans into it. “It is nice, I suppose.”

*

Tomorrow, they’ll each get on a train and go their separate ways for a week, or maybe not quite that if the distance feels too far. They’ll each walk into their family homes, with excitement and discomfort in differing measures. They’ll hug their mums and say hi to their brothers and look around to try and take a few minutes to try and remember how they fit into this place reserved for them but still always unfamiliar at the very start. There will be cakes and food and petty rivalries and inside jokes and family, for better or worse. 

But that’s tomorrow. Tonight is for being together, exchanging presents in front of a crackling fire and basking in the fact that this is their life they’ve made it together.

*

“What do we want to do next year?” Phil asks. 

There’s a music playlist floating carols through the flat. They’re sprawled out pressed chest to chest on the sofa, barely enough room for their bodies. Their mouths are close and damp, hands stroking all the places within easy reach. Their hearts aren’t racing and their palms aren’t sweating. They aren’t making out like teenagers, because as teenagers they’d have already had their pants off and their dicks out. This might lead somewhere, but they’re taking their time mixing words and kisses. They’re making out like the fully grown, soppily in love men of their twenties they are. 

(For another month yet, at least, on Phil’s part.) 

“More of this,” Dan says. He pushes Phil’s hair back from his face and goes in for another kiss, Phil’s bottom lip between both of Dan’s with a little sucking finish. “Lots of those.” 

“We’ll have time for it,” Phil says. “No tours.” 

“No tours,” Dan agrees. 

They’ll be far from sedate in their careers, but they both want a break. They want to rebuild normality back to something even better than it was before, and they won’t do that halfway across the world for more than half their days. 

“That’s our only goal, then?” Phil asks. “More of this, no tour?” 

“Why are we having this discussion right now instead of snogging?” Dan asks. 

Dan wants to put it off. This is no surprise. Dan will procrastinate everything until the bitter, bloodied end if he’s given the chance. 

Phil starts early, asks often. It’s how he’s learned to work around Dan’s ways. So he asks now, and he lets Dan put it off, because he knows it’ll keep percolating in the back of Dan’s mind and maybe in another week or two, when they’re back from holidays, he’ll ask again and this time Dan will have an answer. 

For now, more snogging. 

*

All that snogging, it does lead somewhere. 

It leads to bed, going on six in the evening. They get naked and sweaty on their own time table, civilized world be damned. Their neighbors below are watching an evening program. The family in the flat their front window overlooks is gathered around telling stories of the day. The shop owners down the way are doing business like they do every day. The dog across the building is barking at something out the window. Normal people are leading normal lives and Dan is sprawled like art across their sheets, rutting into a pillow and panting while Phil’s tongue licks ticklishing trails behind his balls and down, making him keen. 

It leads somewhere quite nice. 

*

They order a pizza and open a bottle of the nice wine and watch _Love, Actually_ because Phil loves it even though Dan likes to ruin it quoting articles he’s found online. 

“See if I ever confess my love to you through signs I hold on your doorstep,” Phil grumbles. 

Dan pokes him in the side. “In what situation would you need to confess your love?” 

Phil looks at Dan and does not say, _When I propose._

Dan looks back and does not say, _Well, fine, then._

But Phil does reach across Dan and steal the last good slice of pizza, leaving only the lonely one shorter on toppings, and Dan does elbow him and call him useless and unfair, and they do mock fight over the slice before Phil sighs and takes half his toppings and dumps them on the other slice. 

It’s a confession of love, in their own language. 

*

Phil goes to sleep early. 

Dan humors him, because Phil has to get an earlier train. He gets in bed with Phil lets Phil turn the lights off and puts headphones in so all Phil really hears is the muted sound of the music Dan is playing. 

“Love you,” Phil says, stealing a kiss goodnight. An absent little smile plays on Dan’s mouth but he kisses back, says it back. 

“Today was nice, wasn’t it?” Dan adds, suddenly. “That’s what I want next year. More days like today.” 

There are layers to this that Phil’s mind is too sleepy to unpack, because Dan never says something without meaning five things more that he wants pried out of him. 

But he trusts Dan, and he wants what Dan wants, so he kisses Dan’s shoulder and says, “I’d like that.” 

Dan looks relieved, and yes, this conversation won’t be over, probably hasn’t even really started. 

But whatever it leads, Phil thinks, it’ll be good.


End file.
